In My Place
by DesolateMoondust
Summary: Post 5x11, two-part: "But that control never came into question the day she met Gail, no. And it never dominated the moments spent with her long after, no. She was bare, susceptible to her bottomless wit and charm, beauty and grace. But most importantly, she felt safe. Her heart felt protected, even though it wasn't." [complete]
1. In My Place

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, etc etc.  
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><p>They come to her tonight, seemingly out of nowhere and yet wholly inborn, like a dormant volcano that has been waiting to happen, to just rise.<p>

No longer can these thoughts sleep.

She can feel the words simmer on her tongue as they lay together in bed, surrounded by the sweet heat of adulation this night has fashioned.

Five days to go.

And she finally finds the courage to form these words and allow them ghost her lips, dancing across in hopes for an eruption.

She won't swallow them this occasion; she's running out of time. These words will do, striking her at midnight as she turns affably onto her side to look at her.

"I promised myself I wouldn't ask. I told myself I wouldn't, but I have to. I have to otherwise I'll never forgive myself if I never did." Her eyes lift to glimpse her face, pocketing the soft contours of her appearance as she takes a breath. The air feeling particularly cold for some reason as she sucks it in, causing her jaw to clench briefly before she promptly swipes her lips with her tongue.

This needs to be right; it _needs_ to be said in such a way it doesn't backfire.

That _this_ will be taken seriously, and that she can feel okay in _saying_ it.

That she will be okay in _asking._

Because never has she ever needed, said, or asked for something so important in her life.

"_Stay_. Just.. Please stay? I want you to." She inhales deeply, forcing her hand to gingerly caress the arm on display, _forcing_ herself to reach out and connect in any which way that she can even though her heart is thumping in her chest.

Her body aches, oh how it hurts, because this arm will be gone soon.

And so she takes shelter in knowing it's still here as she delights in trailing her fingers tenderly up and down the expanse of olive skin in front of her.

The motion is hypnotizing and detains her attention.

She could do this for hours.

She _has_ done this for hours.

And she wants nothing more than to keep reliving these strokes, always. For there is a life to be led in the remembrance of the anatomy; retracing every arc and crevice to acknowledge each notable change throughout the years.

The body is a temple that will harvest these alterations with time.

Time she wants to have, and to allocate toward this person - for no other body will ever capture her like this one.

"I'm in love with you." It's a breathless truth that causes her voice to break, struggling under the weight of admission for she never envisioned telling her like this.

The words are enough to still her mind and her hand as she waits.

She just waits.

And listens.

After a beat she finally rounds up her nerves to look at her face, watching as she smiles almost disconsolately.

"I do. I'm so in love with you, and I want you to stay." She welcomes the silence, even feeds off it as she sighs softly, not worrying about it as she adjusts her position on the bed when she finds merely facing her is no longer enough.

She needs to be closer, needs to be near her: _has_ to breathe her in like it's an exigency.

For this woman has been nothing but pure, unadulterated air since the very first moment she met her. And sure, too much can be lethal.

But too much can also be fucking paradise.

And she's not yet ready to let this dizzy spell go. She just wants to inhale and carry on because it's the most she's ever had in her life. It's the most she's ever _felt_ and allowed herself _to _feel in her entire life.

So imagining not having that anymore conflicts her, scares her to the core.

"I keep thinking what your life will be like without me. What work will be like for you, where it'll take you. Who you'll meet, what woman you'll eventually fall for. What sort of life you'll have." She rests her forehead against hers then, her mouth opening slightly as she stares at her, just taking the time to really see her up close.

And it almost breaks her heart because there are only five more days left, only five more days where she'll be able to do this.

120 hours.

"In all this time, I really thought you'd be my constant. The one who would stay. And now all I can think is that life really _does_ suck, because we're right in so many ways, and yet not in so many others."

Her hand snakes up to her head then, desperate to tease the magnificent tresses that cascade over her bare shoulder and down her chest.

It's a wonder, a privilege, and it's a sight that will only be available for such a finite amount of days, hours and seconds now. It hardly seems fair when at one point it appeared they had all the time in world.

432000 seconds.

"I think about what will happen to you, who you'll end up being without me. You're gonna rock at your job because you're already the best at it. You'll write and publish more journals, lead lectures and seminars because you secretly do enjoy them, even though you complain about doing them. It's not even the attention you enjoy; it's knowing you're making an impact on these people, you're teaching them to think and to learn new, awesome creepy things." Her eyes narrow as she draws in some air, her eyes closing momentarily under the influence of these words before forcing them back open.

She needs to see her as she says these words.

"I think I know no matter what that you'll be a mom. And I know you worry about it, but I know you, Holly. Being raised in Foster Care doesn't mean you won't know how to be a good parent, it's just not possible. You've got more warmth than my morning coffee, and I like that stuff hot. You're quick on your feet and wicked smart. Kids _love_ you, so you can't let this fear eat you up okay? I see you. I _feel_ you. And you're going to be a wonderful mom someday."

Her hand threads through the dark locks one last time before settling on her cheek, cupping delicately.

"You've got the best of everything; you'll be the best mother ever." She blinks, trying to rid of the tears collecting in her eyes as she swallows audibly. She's aware of the silence now, and it prickles her.

So the words rush out.

"It'll be the best decision you'll ever make. It'll trump San Francisco and it'll trump accolades; it'll trump them all. Because I know you'll have children, even without me. I wish I could be around to see it; I just wish you could stick around to watch it happen for me."

How was she to know that _this_ person was to influence her the most? That this seemingly innocent, nerdy M.D. would change her world swiftly and so goddamn irreversibly? With those eyes; those browns, the deepest and kindest and loveliest she has ever seen. Hidden initially behind rimmed glasses, those pesky things that threw her off and made her assess Holly that much harder in the cold, sodden woods.

And that bloody lunchbox.

She should have known then that this person, though unsuspecting, would deal her a strong hand. For she dealt her with a cloakroom kiss, and a night of batting cage mirth:

She dealt her with sweet hospitality, and late night conversations.

She dealt her with a sick courier's folder, and an observation room kiss.

She dealt her with a remedying haircut, and a reviving cold shower.

She dealt her with tidings that brought hilarity and tender limbs that itched closer to her own until one day she implored them upon her body without the tiniest disinclination.

Those months were new and untimely, yet filled to the brim with so much enchantment. She can't recall the last time she felt so relaxed, and _was_ so lax in somebody else's company.

This is what love brings; it's everything Holly has brought.

It's in every caress, however slight, for it is imbued with meaning.

It's in every look, however short, for it encompasses affection and serenity and home.

It's in every word, however contrived, for it goes to the ends of the earth and back to show they carry the weight of every action, consequence, confession and promise.

It's in every kiss, however chaste, for it tastes like love; morning breath, afternoon coffee, evening fatigue and night relief.

But now that hand has been subtracted, it's no longer valid: a mere flicker of potential that never stood the chance to blossom and become a reality. And here she is, watching everything take course and change so completely without even moving from this space they inhabit.

A place Holly will soon vacate.

And so she lets this knowledge swirl as she grapples with it, protesting briefly until it wins; spreading throughout her body like a fever. She burns all over. Yet the mark will be superficial at best; a minor singe that will eventually scorch the skin of her heart once the days are up.

Because they _are_ numbered.

But she decides then this blemish is okay, that it's _worthwhile, _for this love will be enough for her entire lifelong. She will carry it with her until she perishes, much like this singular night that endeavours forward, paving way for morning.

It's all inevitable, and she realizes that.

"I'm really going to miss you." She plants the most delicate kiss ever conceived on the face of the most wonderful person she's ever known, wanting nothing more than to forget this moment right here, and yet longing - no matter how less - to wake her up.

To just wake her up and tell her all of these things needing to be heard.

But instead she pulls her lips away, making haste to lick them quickly as she appraises Holly in her quiet slumber.

She untangles herself from the bed then, tentative in her approach to not rouse her as she makes her way out of the room; not knowing Holly's breathing has come to an abrupt halt and that her eyes are laborious to open, leaking her very own tears as she watches her walk away.

_If you go, if you go  
>Leave me down here on my own<br>Then I'll wait for you_

_Sing it, please, please, please_  
><em>Come back and sing to me, to me, me<em>  
><em>Come on and sing it out, now, now<em>  
><em>Come on and sing it out, to me, me<em>  
><em>Come back and sing it.<em>

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><p><strong>The italic lyrics at the end is from the song In My Place by Coldplay.<br>**


	2. Amor Manet

So this is a continuation from the first part and it will be told through Holly's POV.

It's rather long and without a beta, so if there are any errors then yes they are mine but I tried to correct them the best I could!

IMPORTANT NOTE: I tried and failed to locate the strikeout tool on here to emphasise a section of the piece, so I've chosen to just put it in bold instead as it's the only tool I could use without having to edit the story. It should all make sense once you've read it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, but my lord if I did..

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><p><em>There now, steady love, so few come and don't go<em>_  
><em>_Will you won't you, be the one I always know?_

There was no escaping the inevitable, she was leaving tomorrow; this day she had been excited for and yet silently dreading. It was rapidly upon her, and even though she was getting everything she had worked so hard for, she was only just beginning to realize the scope of her sacrifice; how much of herself she was overturning in order to secure this position.

She just thought it would have been worth it.

Because she envisaged garnering this opportunity at some point in her career - much like her recent position, and the plentiful ones before that. There was a certain gratification that came with advancing herself and never backing down in the face of her dreams; succeeding each and every time to make them a reality.

She made it so.

Often she would be tenacious in her approach, not one to settle for second place.

She made it happen.

And yet she had been careful, so very careful when it came to matters of the heart. With her profession she was boundless, forever seeking more. With her heart she was afraid, forever obtaining control. But that control never came into question the day she met Gail, no. And it never dominated the moments spent with her long after, no. She was bare, susceptible to her bottomless wit and charm, beauty and grace.

But most importantly, she felt safe. Her heart felt protected, even though it wasn't.

She likes to believe she chose this path, but really there was no choice. In all truthfulness, she wasn't aware of her innermost longings until Gail dared to kiss her in the observation room.

And she found herself kissing her right back.

Suddenly her heart aligned with her mind, and it made sense. It _all_ made sense. No longer was she controlling her actions – that much was apparent in how she often sought out Gail – no, she was succumbing to the fact that the heart had won a battle she had no idea she was participating, let alone fighting for.

And instead of panicking; instead of being completely thrown by the series of events, she submitted, surrendering to everything the universe had so perfectly woven for them, and which she was finally becoming conscious of.

So how they have ended up here is beyond her comprehension.

She can't understand how they could have ended up in this quandary.

After all the potential.

All the passion.

For the first time in a very long time, she was sure of something that made her heart dance; that made it beat to a rhythm which was not born from within – but created externally, with a partner so loving and so goddamn wondrous.

This woman who made her days infinitely _better_.

Happier.

Even now she's struggling to make it through one night without having Gail close by.

She knew it was for the best, considering that she's leaving tomorrow morning. They had said their goodbyes earlier, though really it was the silence that spoke more for them. She can actually feel the heaviness grip her heart once again upon recalling the moment she watched Gail turn on her heels and walk away.

It was the right thing to do, but never had she thought she'd be the one watching her leave again - not that it would be fair to Gail if the tables were turned.

It was all just a mess.

Her body still hummed, yearning to be wrapped back up in her embrace; longing for her to be present once again. But alas, here she was not. And Holly found herself troubled, roaming the barren townhouse like a guest instead of a dweller; this marvelous home she once occupied with Gail not many full moons ago.

Those months were the greatest.

If she were to listen to the silence hard enough, she could recollect the supple reverberations of her lover's feet striking the hardwood floors. She would give anything to hear a trace of her existence in this interior once again.

Instead all that remains are two things:

A box and a wrinkled note.

The box was the first to be given to her. She was under strict instructions to not open it until she was in San Francisco, and she was game. Mostly because of the way Gail had presented it to her, relaying how important it was that she would not, that she found she could not. And so it sat on the kitchen counter for the rest of the day; acting as a silent, if not poignant reminder of how things had worked out between them.

It was enough to stop her from prying, at least at the time.

But ever since Dov came by with this note – seemingly out of the blue and with limited time to spare while on duty – it was all she could do not to read it right there and then. She vaguely relates the hushed tones of commiserations, and the way Dov ducked his head before drawing out a crumbled looking note, voicing:

"This didn't come from me.."

She didn't care that it had, she just wanted to know what was on it. He didn't linger in the doorway after that, he merely nodded his head and offered her a smile before leaving.

Her fingers itched to open it.

But she refrained. This was unexpected, and so she placed it gingerly on top of the present on the kitchen counter, her fingertips trailing the marked edges before pulling away.

And so the whole night was spent consciously going over details for the move; employing her time wisely and yet not favorably, because the note and present remained perfectly untouched.

Unsurprisingly she finds that everything is pretty much ready for tomorrow by the time it reaches 9pm. She toys with the idea of just going to bed as she lifts the travel mug to her lips and drains the remnants of her tea. She could do with the sleep, but she knows that once she gets into bed that trying to achieve slumber will prove futile.

Her brain won't stop. It's telling her to just do it.

Her fingers still yen to touch; to feel the texture once again and to grasp it while her mind endeavours to gobble the words up on the page.

She wants to read it so much.

So she _does._

She knows she shouldn't, but really how could she not when it's just sitting there, taunting its borders, containing truths she's desperate to know.

Just waiting.

And what's the point in waiting?

Placing her mug down onto the counter, she warily approaches the container. It's no bigger than a shoe box; it's rather small but propositionally so. It overwhelms her mind thinking of what could be stored in there.

Maybe it _is_ a pair of shoes.

With the shake of the head and a small exhale she redirects her gaze to the note, taking care as she unfolds the letter. Just as she goes to unfold the last few sections, she notices writing scribbled on one of the sides:

_**Hey, it's Dov. I thought you'd like to see this letter that Gail threw away. Don't worry, I didn't read it! I just thought it was too important to not give it to you seeing as Gail actually wrote you a letter and it's full of words she's crossed out (those are probably the ones she means the most). Maybe it will help to give you some closure?**_

_**Safe travels!**_

She can feel the beginnings of her heart beating faster in her chest as she scrabbles to open the letter entirely, her lips curling as she glances at the familiar penmanship before she focuses on the words at hand:

_Holly,_

_I'm not good at this, **well duh** but I thought it best to at least try. You're leaving, and I've never been good with the spoken word, so this is the best that I can do _**_and it already sucks_**_. I'm sorry if it's not enough, but you have to know that you always were, _**_does that even make sense?_**_ I have to speak in past tense because it's the only way I'm going to be able to get through this and move on. I don't want to, and I think you don't want to either but the distance thing kind of means that we have to**, **_**_right?_**

_I love you._

_I'm sorry it's taken me this long to tell you but I love you. I may never have said it verbally to you, but I breathed it every day I was with you and I tried to let you know – _**_I hope you know that_**_. I love who you are so much that I feel like it's the only way I can find peace; knowing you provides me with peace. You're amazing, Holly. You made me realize that I am so much more than I ever thought I could be. You made being me possible; this version that I have you to thank, and I hope you know you've forever changed my life. _**_God this sounds so sappy but it's true, I swear_**_. You're precious, Lunchbox. A one of a kind that will go far and bring so much joy to those you meet. _

_And I'm so very glad that you chose to spend those months with me, I'm so lucky. _

_This may be the last time that you know what's going on with me, and vice versa. You once said that life is not a fairytale, and it took me a while to understand what you meant by that. _**_I mean, I was kind of drunk at the time and hacking off my hair_**_. But I've figured it out now, because it's not a fairytale but it can be beautiful. It can._

_And you made it beautiful for me. _

_I love you, Holly. I hope San Francisco will make you happy. I hope you'll find someone who will make you happy, too – _**_even if it's not me. Fucking hell, Gail, you can't write that._**

_Gail_

It's all she can do to just hold the sheet within her shaking hands; the words blurring somewhat as she blinks the water back behind her eyes, her chest heaving under the weight of Gail's sincerity.

And love.

She can vaguely recall the night Gail told her; wrapped up in her arms in bed many nights ago when all they could do was cling to each other for solace. The way her lips would ghost and expel words softly against her skin, she wanted nothing more than to reach out; to just open her eyes and bring herself to the conscious world and be a part of it with Gail.

But there was a reason why Gail chose to confess those veracities to her in those feverish, nocturnal hours.

It was because she wasn't present to listen.

And so Holly found it within herself to not react, to remain seamlessly insensible even though every second felt like an eternity. She knew that this was Gail's way of vocalizing her fears, her hopes and her truths.

And who was she to steal them from her? To demand she utter them again in her roused state so she can readily claim them; store them in her heart and make Gail follow through with everything she's saying. It was a conversation that neither of them could give each other; a certainty that although was felt by both, would not be spoken - because with their love would come the complications; the gulfs that would flood their ship of denial and tear them asunder.

It was an end they knew would assuredly come, but neither of them desired to be the instigator.

They just wanted to kiss freely; to love unabashedly and consume one another with all the time they could no longer borrow.

It was working until today.

Until finally Gail could no longer be found in bed or in the lounge or in the shower.

No, today she was found exemplifying all of her awkward energy as she held the plain looking box in her hands. She denied her eye contact and made it damn near impossible to be anywhere within the vicinity of her, opting instead to stand in the kitchen with the worktop between them.

So she sat down on the stool and accepted the box that Gail slid across the marble top effortlessly.

"Don't, not now."

It was one of only a handful of times that she managed to get Gail to look at her, however briefly, before she went back to depriving them both of seeing each other - of connecting with one another for the final time.

Her words echo in her head as she places the note down and slides her fingers over the box.

_Not now. This is.. You should open this when you're there; when you're in San Francisco._

With deft hands she lifts the lid off the box, pulling the initial tissue paper away before unwinding some bubble wrap.

When the object is revealed she just looks down, hardly believing the sight before her.

She gingerly picks it up, discarding the box and items as she adjusts her grip to get a better look at it. She pries the Post-It from its place and reads the script:

_Saw this frame and couldn't help myself. I was going to write a long-winded cheesefest but instead opt for this awesome present instead. Warm wishes, Gail._

Her eyes dart to the white photo frame, taking in the shape of the spectacles as she fights to contain the hammering inside of her chest. It instantly makes Holly smile as she casts her eyes to the left frame, noting the dark coloring of the image behind the glass. She recognizes it immediately, can even remember the smiles and words echoing the Penny walls as she celebrated leaving for San Francisco. It was a bittersweet gathering, with many people congratulating her and speaking forlornly of her departure from Toronto.

She had been speaking with one of her colleagues at the time when Gail intervened and pulled her away to a nearby crammed table full of people she admired and cared for most. She barely had the chance to look at Gail and ask her what was going on before Gail pointedly turned her head into the direction of Nick, who was standing a few meters away holding a camera and getting people to crowd around so he could take a picture.

The smile was instantaneous, how could it not be when she had her favorite people around? When she had Gail's arm wound comfortably around her back?

Though the night had been filled with lulls of nostalgia and sadness, she can remember that moment above all else. She could feel Gail's unwavering support radiating from her. _She_ was radiant.

And the photo was proof of that.

The adjoining image in the right glass however takes her by surprise. It makes Holly shudder softly; her breath hitching as she soaks in this beautiful impression she never thought she'd get to witness.

She can recollect how the wind swept her hair continuously that day, but it was sunny and she was intent on eating outdoors - much to Gail's dismay. They were stealing a few minutes from their busy schedule to have lunch together at a local café, one met in the middle between their respectful places of employment.

She can even remember how Gail was complaining about one rookie called Gerald, and his bungling ways that was seriously grating on everybody's nerves, before she leant in and silenced her with a kiss. It was only a peck; one exercised to calm the officer's nerves but Gail lingered insistently, refusing to let go. She summoned Holly back and applied pressure into the kiss, making it last for a further moment as she hummed contentedly.

Holly can recall drawing back but remaining close, her forehead resting against the blonde's in a state of euphoria.

This was happiness.

"Well, would you look at that?" She turned to see Traci standing there with her phone aimed at them, a knowing smile on her lips.

The moments that followed makes Holly grin, unable to keep back the elation burning through her veins as she remembers Gail shrieking and standing up, bewildered by the presence of her friend – let alone the phone being hid deliberately behind Traci's back.

"Delete that _right now_."

She thought Traci had when Gail ambushed her. She thought she had after the fiftieth time of Gail pestering her. She thought she had.

But she hadn't.

And this image confirmed it.

Her eyes sweep the image hastily, trailing over how serene they both look. Eyes closed, foreheads pressed comfortably together, lost in each other. It was a perfect moment.

An idyllic moment captured for always.

Just looking at it produces tears in her eyes to the point where they're brimming, desperate for release.

How can she let her go? How can she walk away from this? How could she just watch Gail walk away when they are both clearly so very much in love with each other still? It's instances like this one that Holly achieves transparency; a level of clarity she cannot dare ignore – not when her body and mind and heart screams for her to do something.

Not when this image exists to completely derail her.

Sometimes it's horribly simple. And sometimes that simplicity can only be realized in the height of opposition.

Her hands place the frame down haphazardly as she quickly seeks out her keys, not caring in the least about the weather or the time or any of that trivial nonsense, for she's already halfway out of the door before she can expel the heavy breath from her throat.

She makes it down the stairs and midway down the path before she stops, her eyes absorbing the presence of the person she least expected to see. She's sitting in her car, parked outside her townhouse, with her head turned toward her.

She just sits there, watching her before she looks ahead, mumbling to herself.

She wishes she could hear her words, though they'd probably not be in her favor.

No, not when Gail originally left Holly with a gift. Not when the letter was delivered by Dov and not Gail herself. She can feel the Post-It words bite her consciousness as Gail gradually gets out of the car, moving ever so slowly towards her.

She can't help the words that come to her then.

"Warm wishes?" Gail stops walking upon hearing her words, leaving a good couple meters between them. Clearly she wasn't expecting that.

"Eh?"

"Is that all I get?"

"No, I-"

"-thought some images in a quirky photo-frame would be enough?" Unbeknownst to Gail, they were. They really were. But Holly is filled with so many emotions; reeling from the letter and recovering from the images, that she doesn't really know how to proceed.

But she knows that she has to, that she _wants_ to.

"Holly, I.." She watches her closely; noting the way Gail deflates on the spot - still unable to meet her gaze, still unable to express what she really feels.

Instead she settles on a lie.

"I thought the pictures would say more than I ever could." She implores Holly, she really does. And Holly can see that Gail means it, that she actually believes it – but all it serves to do is bother her. She can feel her head tilt slightly as she appraises Gail in the dark, ever so glad for the lamppost for illuminating them tonight.

"Gail, I got your letter."

"What?"

"The one you didn't write me? I got it."

"Right, and I sent it through the Owl Postal Service." She has to consciously refrain from rolling her eyes at Gail, for she is quickly losing patience. How can she not when this is so very important to her, to them.

"Gail-"

"_Alright_. But seriously, I'm not following." She watches Gail become animated, wringing her hands out as she engages in eye contact for the first time. Clearly she's bemused by what she is saying, even though she's already explained it to her.

She's not making it easy for her, that's for sure.

"You think you're not allowed to write those things to me; that you can't ask those things of me but you can." Holly takes a step toward her then, wanting to reduce the distance and be closer: to be able to see every contortion and shift that bleeds across her face in the darkness.

She wants to see it all.

She wants to see Gail be honest with her _to_ her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Holly." She worries her lip for a moment, not wanting to explode at Gail, but it's frustrating. _So_ very frustrating.

"Just this once would you say what's on your mind, please?" She tries not to sound so piteous; to feel so needy, but it's difficult. She can feel herself cracking at the seams the longer she looks at Gail, being met with nothing more than her perplexed expression.

"I already did.. I said everything on the Post-It." It's the way she drags out the words, as if mocking her that finally does it. The sigh she dispels is aggressive, no longer forgiving as Holly flails indignantly.

"How can you expect me to stay when you won't talk to me? When you won't even say you love me? Why won't you say it, Gail?" Her words are terse, trying to be understanding in her considerably irate state, but it just seems to mystify Gail that much more.

"Look, I don't know why you're being like this-"

"_No_, don't you dare behave like this way with me. Not now, not when I've read your letter."

"What letter?"

"The one you wrote to me."

"I didn't write you a letter!"

"Yes you did."

"I didn't."

"Admit it. _Just_ admit it."

It happens then. Something clicks, and Gail finally looks to her with something akin to acknowledgment.

And defeat.

"It won't change anything."

"You don't know that." She can feel herself moving nearer to Gail, thankful that they're on the same track now – that Gail _finally_ understands what they're talking about.

"I do. I didn't send it for a reason, Holly. You're going to get on that plane tomorrow, and you're going to live in San Francisco, at least for the foreseeable future. And you'll love it there, and they'll love you-"

"Stop."

"-then they'll come up with a better contract for you, and you'll accept it because it's everything you've ever wanted. Heck, by that time you'll probably be schmoozing with some-"

"_Stop_."

"I can't, don't you realize? We're on completely different paths. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I can't be a part of it." It's the latter that sucks the breath from Holly as she listens to her, as she weighs the utterances inside her head. She can't help but call upon the words Gail spoke to her many nights ago:

_It'll be the best decision you'll ever make. It'll trump San Francisco and it'll trump accolades; it'll trump them all. Because I know you'll have children, even without me. I wish I could be around to see it; I just wish you could stick around to watch it happen for me._

She can see a future with her and she doesn't want to let it go, but she _needs_ for Gail to speak to her; she needs for Gail to _want_ to be a part of _her_ life.

She needs for Gail to _say_ that she wants this with her, because god knows they can if she just so admits.

"Just say it_._"

"Holly-"

"I need to hear you say it; to my face, right now. Look at me and _say it._"

"Vampire."

"_Gail._" She knows that she's just scared; that she's deflecting and joking about because it's easier that way, but it gnaws at her. It pains her. And so even though she offers a watery smile, it's strained at best. All that is left between them is silence after that.

Only silence.

But she dares to keep fighting, to keep this dialogue alive as she steps closer to Gail.

"Don't just breathe it to me anymore; I need to hear you say it." It's horribly tense as she allows her words to hang there, almost to the point where she wonders if Gail even heard them at all. As she gains ground, she can tell by the way Gail is looking at her that she did.

She has.

"If I say it, I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to walk away." It's breathless and painful, but it's there. She spoke them. The words create tremors up her spine as she maintains eye contact with Gail, eliminating another step between them.

"What if I don't want you to?"

"There's no other way around this, Hols."

"Gail-"

"I love you, _okay_? I _love_ you. Is that what you want to hear? Because I'm trying to be better; I'm trying to do this right, but I can't. I can't do this when you make me feel this way: it hurts. I love you so much and I don't want you to go." She can feel her body stop moving, the force of her words influencing her as she watches Gail unravel before her.

It's everything she wanted to hear, but now she just feels hollow because of it: for prompting Gail to speak, for making her hurt.

"My love is _selfish_, and I don't want it to be. I want to be able to let you go. I want to love you in a way that shows my love is _better_ than me; that it's above what I want, and you're not letting me." She grants Gail this moment of reprieve, this stillness that encompasses her after she stops speaking. She can see the way it stings her, and so she just waits. She just breathes air with her, existing alongside her.

She waits until _her_ words are too heavy to carry on her own anymore.

"Maybe the reason is because I love you too. Did that not occur to you, Gail?"

"It won't-"

"-that my love for you is equally selfish. That I want nothing more than to kiss you right now, and to forget about this opportunity which I've been working my butt off for since I've been able to realize what I want to do with my life." She watches her shake her head, adamant as she peers at her with vivid blues made to undo her.

"You can't do that; I won't let you." She feels her own head shake slightly as she releases a profound breath. Her arms join in with her exasperation, trying to make sense of it all.

"Somehow we've made it an either-or situation, and I'm tired. Gail, I'm tired of this."

"Why do you think I never sent that letter to you?" She refuses to regress, to go back on these matters that have already happened. Instead she looks defiantly to Gail, standing taller as she weighs their options out.

"I want both."

"Holly."

"I want you and I want my career. We're not living in a terrible sitcom from the 50's. We're not women having to choose between careers and love-"

"But we are. This _is_ an either-or situation. There's no way around it." She works to cease the growl from emitting from her throat as she works to challenge her, her body growing rigid under the effort.

"Why, because it would be easier for you?"

"For both of us; long distance doesn't work."

"We haven't tried."

"And we can't."

"Don't- don't make this a self-fulfilling prophecy before we've even decided." She can feel the rage boil inside her, infuriated by Gail's tone and resignation. To be shot down time and again, especially when she knows that Gail wants to.

She wants to and she knows it.

"Love doesn't matter. When you've got that distance, it tears you apart. I've tried to spend one night from you, and I can't. It's why I'm here right now because I.."

"You can't let go."

"And we can't go forward."

"Gail." She feels so tired at this point, her body sagging as she studies Gail's profile closely, noting the perpetual frown on her face: her beautiful, fraught face. She just wants to trail her fingertips across her creases and kiss them away, each and every one of them. They deserve the time and care to be straightened out; to be known and nursed.

She wonders whether anyone besides her has ever dared to before, or if anyone will when she leaves.

She wants to be the only one.

"We can't keep going over this, Holly. It won't work."

"_We_ work."

"Not always."

"Not always, but if we both want to be together; if we try-"

"You think I haven't gone over this in my head? That we haven't exhausted this conversation a million times over. _You _agreed with me. You said long distance doesn't work."

"That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before you told me how you felt."

"Holly, you've always known. This doesn't change anything."

"But-"

"It just makes it that much harder: it's gonna make walking away right now really fucking shit." She can feel her slipping, and it's unlike before when she watched Gail walk away earlier.

There was an air of indecision then; an aura of injustice that coated them both because of the situation. Though their feelings had nowhere near been declared, it was suggested, remaining ambiguous in an ever more ambiguous ending.

But now?

Now they both knew how the other felt, officially. Nothing left unsaid. And yet it _changed_ nothing. If anything, it seemed to cement Holly's exit; bringing them a bitter finality that was inescapable.

But Holly was having none of it.

In the last half an hour or so, Holly irreversibly allowed her heart to beat for her; to be at the center of her existence and drive for her.

So she wasn't having any of this.

She couldn't stop now even if she tried; she just needed Gail to reconsider, to change her perspective. To see that it can be possible, that _they_ can possible.

"Gail, _please_? We can make this work."

"I can't risk it."

"Why? Our hearts are already on the line here."

"No, I can't _risk_ it. Sophie, she.. I can't do that to her. If this doesn't work-"

"It can- it _will_." She won't stop trying; she won't stop nearing Gail until she's forced to. She can feel it burn through her. She won't take no for an answer, she just won't.

"I can't."

"You won't."

"Don't put this on me. We agreed-"

"That was before I read your letter! It was before our time was up!" She can feel her body wracked with nerves; her muscles contracting under duress to tighten in the worst possible way as Gail finally decides to sever the distance between them.

"Hey, _hey. _We.. We can do this." The tears are already flooding her eyes as she looks at Gail, trying to breathe through the wave of emotion eclipsing her. She can feel the placement of Gail's hands strategically on her forearms, careful to apply just the right amount of pressure and remain just out of her breathing space.

There's a resolution present in her eyes that she's afraid of.

"We can let go."

"No."

"We can, we have to."

"I thought you wanted us. You love me; why don't you want this?"

"I do, more than anything."

"Then _fight_, fight _with_ me." Her fingers grab then, unable to stop from acting out. She grips Gail's wrists, securing their status on her body as she moves closer. Her eyes daring Gail to look back, to see everything that she feels and wants and wishes for them: she tries to convey it all.

"If I thought for a second it would make a difference then I would, Hol. I'd do anything to keep you in my life."

"Then _do_ something."

"I am. I'm letting you go. I'm letting us live. This is bigger than us, Holly. This is your chance to do everything you've wanted for so long. Your research, your grant, your students, getting your nerd on; you're gonna have _all_ of it. This is going to be great for you. And you have to do it, you have to go there. And I have to stay here. I have to try for Sophie. We have to live our lives the way we've chosen them. We can't go back now." It sounds rehearsed, as if she knew that these words would be evoked at some point. And although it gives her hope that she can somehow dismantle them, Holly can see the fire behind them.

She can see the intent and reasoning; logic and acceptance.

"Not even for love?"

"Hols, it _is_ for love."

It's bullshit. Complete bullshit. And yet it's righteous and brave and _so_ Gail.

It only serves to make her break that much more.

"Please." She feels weak, and she has never felt so empty before; pleading with everything she possesses. It's exhausting. It's agonizing.

And she's completely powerless.

"You shouldn't have read the letter; I should never have written it. I'm sorry, Holly."

Her mouth opens, ready to speak more but no words follow. She can feel her hands fall aimlessly to her sides as Gail trails her palms up to rest decisively on her cheeks.

"I love you _so _much. I-I can't even remember the last I said it. You're the reason I'm saying it, and you will be for a very long time." It feels effortless, like being here with Gail requires nothing more than breathing, and love should be so easy.

It should be sublime.

All the stuff that burdens can just be put to one side because none of it truly matters, not when love is significant. Not when sharing your partners oxygen comes first.

Not when you're staring into their eyes, able to see the love reflecting back.

That's what's important, that's what life should be about; trying to keep it alive while you can, while it still exists in you both. A life measured by trials of love, the holding on and letting go - but you're not really letting go, not when it's inevitable. Not when you're tethered.

Not when you work consciously, actively, and happily towards each other in this life.

Love is foremost, the rest is just detail.

She takes Gail's hands in her own and holds them tight.

"Gail Peck, I _love_ you. And this love has opened up a world I never knew existed before you. I've connected with people and I've loved dearly, but you.. I can't let this go and I won't let _you_ go. I won't let you." This woman she knows is the person she wants to be with through all the hardships and miscommunications. She wants to be with her, to know her, to _love_ her.

She just wants them to _be_.

It can happen, because she knows that Gail feels this too. She just needs to convince her that they _are_ enough, that they _can_ make it through all of this, together.

"You're going to come inside and we're going to talk and we're going to try and make this work."

"Holly." She's tired of Gail fighting it, contesting _them_, for she doesn't have to. She need not to. And so she leans forward and presses her lips determinedly against the blonde's, coercing her stubborn brain to just stop.

They are a force to be reckoned with. Nothing else matters when they're together, surrounded by one another's flesh and thoughts; desires and hopes. Love overrides them, courses through like a drug.

And Holly wills for her lips to impart the words: _Let it be enough. Let our love be enough to get us through. _

She can sense the moment Gail surrenders, and it's nothing short than glorious. Noting the way her body inclines as if drawn to her until she's pressing almost urgently against her, colliding with her own. Her mouth gives way for open, heated kisses full of need and teeth and tongue.

They're working together, a chorale of moans and sighs and sharp breaths.

It should always ripple through them like this, love. For this love should be experienced as a duo, coming together to complete, feel; to appreciate what it _is_ to love, and to love in this way.

It's nothing short than divine.

They draw back from each other, their hands still bunching ruffled apparels, unable to let go of one another. Holly leans her head against Gail's, trying to see everything that she can in her lover's eyes in the moonlight.

"We have to try, Gail. Let us try."

"I want to, I do.. I just- the distance."

"Screw the distance; I believe in us." Her arms wrap around Gail's waist, making sure to uphold proximity as she feels Gail's arms trail around her shoulders to rest loosely. When Gail doesn't answer, she ducks down and looks back into her eyes. Though she can identify the uncertainty clouding her spheres, she can now see something she dared not imagine before:

Love.

And it is enough to give her hope:

"The second your letter was complete, you decided for us; so let me reinforce your point now. Let me show you, you were right; life _can_ be beautiful as long as we have each other, as long as we're _honest_. We can make this work; all we have to do is try."

_It's always have and never hold__  
><em>_You've begun to feel like home__  
><em>_What's mine is yours to leave or take__  
><em>_What's mine is yours to make your own_

* * *

><p>The italicised words used at the beginning and end are lyrics from the song Look After You by The Fray. Lovely song!<p>

Thanks for reading.


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